Everyone wants the Best. I do. I have the Best motorcycle, the Best car, the Best family, and the Best mother.

But here’s the thing: you might not like my bike, car, family or mother (if you don’t like my mother, hold your tongue). What’s going on here? After all, I have the Best.

Devoid of context, Best is useless: at best empty, at worst terribly misleading. The use of the word comes from the human drive for simplicity combined with a sense of tribal community. You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it, because we’re in the same zone and it will work for me too. Too easy.

My car, my stuff: relations. Best is not an absolute: it is related to the circumstances at hand at a moment frozen in time. What will you do with your stuff? What can you afford? What is your sense of life and matching style? Sometimes you optimize for function, sometimes for style.

Even when you find the Best – something optimized for a certain need – it may be poor Value. If the number one thing costs twice as much as the number two thing but is only 20% better, it’s lousy Value.

Go ahead and ask me the Best way to put a holster on a MOLLE vest. Then ask me the Best way to manage crimped primers. You won’t get a simple answer – there is none – but you will get an earful.